Chase won't chase

I was dismayed to find a polite rejection letter from Chase in this morning's email. Last month I had applied for a senior writer position, and after reading through the job description, I was fairly sure I was a better fit than most.

Of course, my immediate reaction is to begin obsessing about the reasons behind the decision. Do I need to fiddle with my resume more? Am I too old? (In this business, over 40 is frickin' old for a writer.) Did I make an enemy somewhere down the line - someone who now works at Chase? I should point out that this is something I've always been careful to avoid. In the workplace, revenge can be an expensive luxury.

Of course I'm making way too many assumptions here, including the fact that I might not have even liked the job. It's just that I'm feeling so horribly burned out these days. I need a vacation and fewer cats.

Monogamy and infidelity: time to call a truce?

If you buy books online at amazon.com, the site will eventually begin to annoy you by offering recommendations each time you visit the site. The reason I find this annoying is that many of the books I buy aren't for me - they're gifts for others. Therefore the recommendations rarely match my interests.

However, a new recommendation caught my eye. It's not a new book: Monogamy by Adam Phillips was published in 1999. But, in some ways, it has more appeal that the more recent Against Love. For example, he's content to discuss his subject matter without condemning it. He's not quite as cynical as Laura Kipnis, although he is no less fearless regarding his subject matter. And he doesn't have a problem throwing us the occasional curveball.

My reasons for rejecting long-term relationships aren't the same as most others'. In addition to my belief that security doesn't exist, I'm also convinced that attempting to enforce your own monogamy via marriage doesn't buy your passion an extended warranty. True, many of us are terrified of our relationships ending, and of dying alone, but ultimately we have no control over either scenario.

Here are some excerpts, and no, I don't understand all of them:

Profoundly committed to the better life, the promiscuous, like the monogamous, are idealists. Both are deranged by hope, in awe of reassurance, impressed by their pleasures. We should not be too quick to set them against each other. At their best, they are both the enemies of cynicism. It is the cynical who are dispiriting because they are always getting their disappointment in first.

The only truly monogamous relationship is the one we have with ourselves.

Every marriage is a blind date that makes you wonder what the alternatives are to a blind date.

A couple is a conspiracy in search of a crime. Sex is often the closest they can get.

Most infidelities aren't ugly, they just look as though they are.

Each of our relationships is different, and we are different in each of them. That is what makes monogamy so perversely interesting. (I'm still trying to figure out what Phillips means by this - wouldn't it be the other way around?)

At its best monogamy may be the wish to find someone to die with; at its worst it is a cure for the terrors of aliveness. They are easily confused.

No one gets the relationship they deserve. For some people this is a cause of unending resentment, for some people it is the source of unending desire. And for some people the most important thing is that they have found something that doesn't end.

In a society without scapegoats there would be more conflict. People feel too vulnerable without someone else to blame and punish. Similarly, a society without sexual infidelity -- or without the promiscuous going their wanton way -- could be dangerous. Who would we be fascinated by, who would we persecute?
After all, a couple without a third party are radically unprotected from each other. And when people are unprotected from each other, it can go either way.

the savoy truffle and tic douloureax

Even though the appointment isn't until 5:00pm today, I am already dreading my afternoon dental appointment.

I am always reminded of the Beatles' song Savoy Truffle, which John Lennon wrote about Eric Clapton's candy addiction and subsequent dental woes. And when you consider I'm only going in for a cleaning, it becomes even more apparent how much of a wuss I am.

My near-phobia of dentists seems to run in the family. My older brother has to literally be sedated for cleaning, even though the dentist never finds cavities - just a lot of nicotine. And I was terrified of dentists from pre-school.

I finally got a grip in my 30s, but then a cleaning in 2008 may or may not have triggered what was eventually diagnosed as tic douloureux. Which is every bit as painful as it's described.

If I hadn't gone to my wonderful endodontist Hedley (that's really his name), I probably would have insisted that my regular dentist remove every upper molar on the left side of my face. Fortunately, he refused to remove more than one, and I was eventually diagnosed and cured with the help of my doctor friend Elizabeth and a Botox-wielding neurologist.

The only problem with Botox is that it usually isn't a permanent cure. I don't know if I would want to opt for the surgery or more Botox (no, the injection does not improve my looks).

an electric weekend sans mosh pit

For those who enquired: yes, I made it up to Denton Saturday night for some live music, and yes I enjoyed myself. The opening act, Trebuchet, was quite good, and the top billing was great fun.

Although the venue was much too small for a mosh pit, my fears of being noticeably older than the rest of the audience were unfounded. And my ability to dance like a fool has not changed much in 20 years. At least I blended in well.

There are some advantages to these smaller venues. Not only are they cheaper - I still can't get over how you have to shell out literally hundreds to attend a big name concert these days - but you can stand about six feet from the band. Watching a lead guitarist play a complicated solo up-close fascinates me.

Here is a link to the group's 2009 appearance at the Boiler Room (same venue as last Saturday). I was standing at almost exactly the same place as the person videotaping this song.

I can remember looking at the musicians and thinking how difficult it must be to survive extended road trips. They are probably sleeping in a bus, or a cheap motel, and rarely getting a decent night's rest.

The only drawback was all the cigarette smoke. Although it didn't set off an asthma attack during the show, I found myself scrabbling for my rescue inhaler while driving home. And I had forgotten how smoky bars make your hair and clothes stink. When I got home, I had to wash my hair before retiring and literally take my clothes into the laundry room so they wouldn't smell up the bedroom. So I didn't get to sleep until around 4:00 a.m.

gimme my dress back, please

This is a song I've always liked, although it's kitschy. I don't think it got any airplay in the US as it was a tad too dirty. I think it's sweet in a juvenile sort of way. And what's wrong with saying something like "I'd get down on my knees, I'd do anything for ya"?

I just want Chrissy Amphlett to give me my dress back - the black one with the white ruffles on the back of the skirt. I had a nearly-identical dress when I lived in Sydney (a version with sleeves) and it got lost when I moved. I still haven't recovered from the loss.

Watch for the amazingly flexible model in short shorts. If this version's too small, click here for a larger, high-res version.